Ninniach
by Aewneth-the.Elf
Summary: One girl. One girl to unite the hearts of Elves and Men. One girl to help all of Middle-earth realize their enemy. Time may go on, an endless storm, but sometimes there is a Rainbow- hope to follow the rains of despair.
1. Summary & Author's Note

Finduilas of Dol Amroth was a woman of great beauty and much loved, before her death, too young. In Third Age 2978, her first and elder son with Denethor II, Steward of Gondor, was born. Boromir's younger brother Faramir was born five years thereafter, and she died in Third Age 2984. This much is known in fact.

But more remains in legend.

Now it is presented the epic tale of Arinnë Ninniach, twin sister of Faramir, daughter of Finduilas and Denethor, who united the hearts of Elves and Men.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this story except my own characters and the plot. Those rights belong to their respective owners and not to me.**

Author's Note:

I have been writing up this story in my notebook for a while now, and since I actually have readers (not sure how you think I'm good) I thought I should type it up and let you all read it! Updates should be faster then my other books for quite some time as I already have written the story. I look forward to any constructive feedback and sincerely hope that you enjoy Ninniach!


	2. Part One: I Gwaew (The Storm)

Arinnë awoke to the light sunshine of dawn. Something seemed different, but she couldn't recall what. With a laugh, she remembered- it was her eighth birthday! With a huge grin on her face, she ran down the halls, shouting, "Mommy! Has anyone seen Finduilas, my Mommy? _Mommy_! Guess what day it is?!"

However, her mother's response was quite snappish and frustrated, not at all what Arinnë expected.

"We are supposed to be hiding, my daughter! For the past seven years and to this day, no one must know our identity," she said, slowly fading to happiness. "Just remember that. And happy birthday, my love."

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Arinnë?"

"Why do we have to keep ourselves secret?"

Finduilas sighed. The truth was far too unpleasant, she believed, for a youth's ears- and too unpleasant to ruin today's celebrations, although no great feast they were. Thus she made a story, a tale to satisfy the young girl's curiosity.

"Long ago, when you were but a babe, we lived in a great palace," the woman began softly. That was true enough.

"But I was always wishing to see the Hidden City that stories told of. It was said that if you went to the City on the night of a full moon, you were high enough to touch the stars and learn much from them, but you could only gain admittance to the City if you were a fair and noble-minded person. I decided that we should depart to search for the City, but there were other people also searching. These were bad people, who shouldn't be allowed inside the Great Gates, but we are far ahead of them in finding it. If they knew who we were, they would take us back to the palace so they found the City first- and we can't have that!"

"Oh." Arinnë said quietly, convinced of the tale's truth. She felt very sorry for shouting her mother's name now.

"Now now, don't feel sorry. Today we are happy, remember? It's your eighth birthday!"

Arinnë perked up immediately.

Laughing and playing, the two strode down the streets of the small mountain-hidden village on the Rohan-Gondor border. It was a crisp autumn day, but not too cold. Everything was perfect. The calm before the storm.

Soon after their version of a luncheon feast- a bit of pork and honey cakes- Arinnë spoke seriously again.

"Do you know what I really want for my birthday, Mommy?"

"What?" Finduilas replied with a warm smile.

"I want to learn to ride. Like all those horse-people over the border!"

"I suppose I can show you a bit..." Finduilas replied cautiously. She believed women should be able to learn the skills of men.

"But how shall we borrow horses?"

As it turned out, that question was easily answered. A trader from Rohan was visiting with two horses, not including his own, and two ponies. He was letting villagers take them on a small circle around the area to decide if they wished to purchase one. Now the trader was a kid and merry man, who understood immediately Arinnë's equestrian enthusiasm. He agreed to let the pair borrow a pony and horse, given they return them within two hours at most.

So Finduilas and her daughter set out riding. Paying thought to little but each other, they strayed quite a ways from the village. Unknown to them a group of Orcs fleeing Rohirrim charges had entered into Gondor, prepared to pillage any towns they could find. It was not long until with a zip, crossbow-fired arrows were coming through the air. Two impaled the larger horse's chest, and Granla- for that was the stallion's name- fell. A single arrow pierced the smaller Falesa's lower leg, about two inches below the knee. He fell, but did not die.

With a cry of despair Finduilas rose fro the body of her horse, prepared to make a final stand. The Orcs came out of the trees with horrible war-axes, crossbows, and crooked swords. Tossing Arinnë a dagger and drawing the longer sword (Finduilas was wise enough to always keep arms in case of an instance like this), she called out for Arinnë to run. But the young girl stood still, traumatized by these beasts of shadow. Her mother's voice became more frantic.

"Run! My love, you must run!" Finduilas cried desperately. But the warriors of Mordor knew no mercy. No man or woman escaped their grasp.

The crossbow was aimed. Ready to fire from the shadows. And an arrow whizzed towards Arinnë.

"No!" The Steward's wife screamed, launching herself forward to shield her daughter.

The black-tipped arrow entered her chest. She fell to her knees, but this woman was as a queen to the realm. Her spirit and her love was stronger than that. She raised the sword for a few final weak strikes, little more than small waves that couldn't ever pierce armor or flesh.

"Run... run..." barely more than a whisper now. She was so very tired. Finduilas licked the sweat on her lips.

Finally, some sense entered the madness of Arinnë's mind. She grabbed her mother and ran into the shadow of the trees, dagger a-thrust before her. That was an act of strength that would never have been possible before, but the blood of great ruling men ran in her veins. She was more than a mere girl.

Luckily enough, the group of Orcs was confused. Several believed their fellows had been killed by each other, not considering that a woman could fight. They were busy fighting amongst themselves and the pair escaped notice. But, less luckily, Finduilas had borne no armor. The arrow was deep into her bloody chest. It was beyond anyone, especially a young girl, to save her.

"Listen, my child, for I have kept much from you. There is little time now to tell it all. You are no peasant girl. Your father is Denethor, the Steward of the White City. Your brothers will be great men, as you will be a very great woman. Their names are Boromir and Faramir. Remember this well..." although barely more than a whisper, the Lady of Dol Amroth's voice was urgent. "The city was killing me in spirit. The riches, the fame, and the great threat close to the south. I needed to leave. So a year after you and Faramir were born, I faked a death of sickness and took you away with me... I do not regret it. But... what I do re- regret..." the voice grew more weak. Finduilas felt salty blood everywhere, even inside her mouth now. Knowing this was her only chance, she spoke faster. "I regret that we could never be a family again, that such... pe-petty things di-divided... divided us... We need unity, all of Men, all free peoples... W-we need t-to trust all. You will make that unity. My- my d-dau- my daughter."

And so it was that Finduilas passed into shadow at last. Lady of Dol Amroth, wife of the Steward, mother of two great men that shall always be remembered. And mother of another that I tell you of now, great also. But now the storm began in her mind, a great torrent that lasted years. Arinnë wept.

"It's all my fault! I told her we should go out! I didn't leave, nor take her with me! It's me! I'm a murderer."

These thoughts accompanied a scream of great anguish. Arinnë was so young, to suffer so much. The hurt. The blame. The desperate lies, the anger. Nothing mattered in this world! It was all just chaos! Thoughts raced in her mind, more than screams, dashing and hitting and breaking until nothing was left. Then came a kind of peace made of empty rage.

Arinnë stopped screaming. Stopped the flow of tears. If she was an outcast, a criminal, she may as well pillage the strange figure below her. Almost trance-like, without thinking since she no longer had a mind, she took Finduilas' sword and walked calmly into the wild.

She forgot all that she now learned. She forgot everything, in fact. Arinnë had nothing but to mindless in the shadows, ashes guided by a wind they could not see.

~•~•~•~•~

Falesa returned to the village. The trader saw him, struggling with a bloody leg at an awkward angle. That pony was extremely persevering! No longer angry at the villagers' supposed crookedness and trickery, he knew there had been an accident. The trader advised and convinced most families to flee the area.

The rest were impaled, murdered, and piled. The reek was overwhelming, until a fire reduced them to nothing, starting on an infant at the top.

More ashes, more ruin, more madness.

I don't believe anyone remembers the names.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**A/N**

**Woah... that was intense. **

**It's weird how much a bad day can improve your writing. I guess in that respect it's actually a good day. Funny how that works.**

**I appreciate any and all feedback, positive or negative, as long as it is constructive. Thank you so much for reading! I hope I'll actually finish this story ;)**

**Comment and share, see you next update! Signing out, Aewneth.**


	3. Chapter Two: Noss Eden (New Family)

Arinnë wandered throughout the years, growing in age, but otherwise staying the same- after all, nothingness can't be changed as it does not exist to be differed. Survival was a thoughtless act, killing small game with dagger and sword, lying cold at night under a few branches and brambles. It's really a miracle she did not die. Perhaps she wasn't so alone, some spirit of power from Valinor directed her down the correct path. But perhaps also, so it seemed at the time, Arinnë was better off dead than this shadow of life- if it could be called that. More like a darker shadow of shade and insanity.

Nothing existed but ash and ruin, for all that was built collapsed, and none remember the builders' names. All must fade.

By some twisted path of fate, Arinnë's travels brought her to the border of Lothlórien, fairest of Elven realms, although it was little more than a shadow of the Elder Days and would soon be barren of life and song, as the Elves departed to the Undying Lands. By strange means she was permitted to the land.

Weary of life, Arinnë was half-aware that this place was... different. As if it laid not completely in the mortal land of Middle-earth, but partly also in a world of enchantment. By now she had reached the age of fifteen, although she had no knowledge of it or anything else, and was a beautiful young maiden, resembling her mother.

She spent many days under those unnaturally tall trees, and doom finally began to grab her heart. Her time was up. Sickness, devastation, thirst. Unquenchable thirst. Occasional sporadic collapses, unconsciousness. Darkness. This was the shadow of a shadow that Arinnë lived in those days. Mortality finally began to lay hands on her.

What was this thirst, that never left her? Arinnë leaned over to drink from the crystal stream, and collapsed on its banks, shivering painfully for a few moments then melting into darkness.

If only she knew how close she was to her new life. The young maiden had collapsed by a stream in the very heart of the Golden Woods. Anneth, a young Elven guard apprentice, saw her lying there and went to notify Lady Galadriel with a cry of "Hiril vuin! Gwend eriath, a boe de nestad!" My beloved lady! A lone maiden, and she needs healing!

Galadriel's reply was kind. "Agoreg vae. Gwaem!" You did well. Let's go!

Arinnë came back into consciousness for a few moments to see herself being lifted up by a few unfamiliar figures. The panic in her eyes was answered by a beautiful woman with golden hair. "Odulen an edraith angin. You are safe here."

Then the world dissolved again.

Next Arinnë woke, she was lying in a straw bed in actual clothes rather than the ragged strips she had worn for years. Shifting in response to the unusual comfort, she opened her eyes to see tree-branches above her. A table next to her, topped with jars of herbs, was being attended to by a completely alien woman. She moved with unnatural grace, sweeping her hair back to reveal pointed ears. An Elf. Seeing that the girl had awoken and was in a panicked manner, a she smiled soothingly. "Losta." Although she could not understand the beautiful word, Arinnë felt its meaning. She was not in danger here, she could rest. She fell back into dreamless sleep.

~•~•~•~•~

Galadriel knew many things, of the past, present... And future. She knew this girl was significant to all Middle-earth. That was why she permitted her to the land. She could not be allowed to die. Galadriel wisely saw potential in this moment to improve friendship with Men. But not only that, she felt pity and affection already for this girl, who reminded her of Celebrían her daughter, now gone. The Lady of the Golden Wood went to visit Arinnë personally, with intentions she knew were ridiculous. The girl would make a good daughter.

~•~•~•~•~

Arinnë saw the lady, who had spoken to her before. The one who seemed to glow with otherworldly light. She was returning to some sanity, and recalled speech and sense now, but her memory of the world before wandering was still departed. She knew not even her own name. Wondering in a way frantic but no longer panicked, her thoughts were stopped by the elf-lady's graceful speech.

"Welcome, to the Golden Woods of Lórien, my realm. I promise, no harm will come to you here. You are home. Your life was a great storm, as was mine without my daughter Celebrían, whom I dearly miss. But now that storm has at least come to a pause, and like a rainbow you are revealed in beauty. If you would accept me as your mother, I would gladly accept you as my daughter. The choice is yours, thee whom I dub Ninniach, the hope to follow a storm."

This world was a confusing one indeed. But, then again, these Elves were certainly skilled in many ways. It would not be wise to displease their Lady. Ninniach asked for time to decide, but in her heart she had already chosen. It would be wonderful to not be alone anymore.

And so it was that Ninniach's fate was set. Being the eager-to-learn girl she was, Ninniach quickly learned the tongue of the land, and grew to love her new mother Galadriel and new father Celeborn. She spent days laughing and singing under the treetops, happy and free, with Anneth her friend. For he was of like mind to her, quick to laughter, eager and curious to learn.

It didn't matter much that she was of Mannish origin. The Elves treated her as one of their own.

But a piece of Ninniach's life was still missing. Her past was still hidden from her, but she began to remember in her dreams a great feeling of sorrow that she herself had caused. So one night when she was supposed to be asleep, but could not rest, she stood outside looking up at the endless leaves above Caras Galadhon. She wondered about the patterns of the stars above her. What tales did they tell? So far, so passionate, so unreachable. Perhaps they could teach her who she was.

Ninniach felt a change in the air around her. Turning around, she met Anneth's eyes.

"Mae govannen, Ninniach, mellon-nin." he said softly, almost sighing.

"Well met indeed, but why are you still awake at this hour?"

"Same reason as you, I suppose. Couldn't sleep."

Ninniach nodded. No further spoken communication was needed. Anneth squeezed her hand in comfort.

"You'll find it eventually."

Ninniach nodded again. The two understood each other on such a basic level that she never even had to state her troubles. Anneth was simply there, like a shadow made of comforting light. As she was to him. The two looked up, enjoying each other's company, wondering about the tales the stars could tell.

Ninniach now knew. This was her home.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N

I hope this chapter isn't too corny, or unrealistic. I know it wouldn't be likely that Galadriel would just accept Arinnë-Ninniach as a daughter on the spot. But I hope it still seems possible.

Once again, I welcome any positive or negative feedback as long as it is constructive!

Review and share, see you next update! Novaer! Signing out, Aewneth.


	4. Chapter Three: I Randir (The Wanderer)

Note: Every piece of dialogue in this chapter and the other Lothlórien chapters? The characters are actually speaking in Sindarin, but I just put bits and snatches in there since I'm nowhere close to fluent. You can just pretend.

Ninniach let out a soft shout of surprise. She had tripped over the hem of her dress in her rush to go see the Galadhrim forces practicing. It was always quite a sight to see the Elvish youths' uncanny skill with bow and dagger. Her thoughts strayed back to the short sword that lay by her bedside. It had come out of the shadow of her past, but it almost glowed with alien brightness. It was strange and unlike anything else in Lothlórien. The blade had a simple form, but there was an aura of slow power to it, as if it had come from a different world than the lands of Middle-earth. When she was young it had seemed like a huge sword, but it was all she had to live by. It was her only source of food. She found a strength in her desperation that allowed her to wield it. Now, however, no strength was needed. It was barely more than a knife in her hands. Not that that changed the feel that it was wrapped in shadow that pierced her soul with the sharpness of the edges.

Ninniach gently punched herself for a lesson. She was imagining things. However she had come by it, the sword was just an object, a tool. It couldn't harm her, emotionally or physically.

Usually at this time of day Ninniach was studying with her tutor Gobennas, who was a friend of her father Celeborn. However, he recommended that she went to see the royal army's assembly. She didn't know why, but she was always eager to learn more about the world and see new sights, so she was glad to go.

Ninniach wondered where Anneth was. Surely the guard apprentice would not miss an assembly of another branch of warriors? Then again, Anneth hadn't been very proud of his occupation lately. A series of minor failures that seemed huge to him had wounded his confidence quite severely, despite the encouraging words Ninniach tried to give him. He believed he was a weak link in the chain of Caras Galadhon's gatekeepers and the nearby forest's protection, an important branch of the Galadhrim army. Not a single evil thing had entered the Woods for many years, and Ninniach attempted to convince him that it was okay if he wasn't perfect. But nevertheless Anneth remained angry at his lack of mastery over bow.

Oh, there he was! A short way ahead of Ninniach, Anneth stood watching the archers organize themselves into neat lines, fingering with a broken and discarded bowstring.

"Gi suilon, Anneth!" she called to his turned back. He spun around, quickly stuffing the mangled bowstring in his gray cloak.

"Oh, it's you. Suilad, mellon! They're really rather impressive, aren't they?" he replied gloomily.

"Not as impressive as your potential. You really should realize, you're a skilled warrior, and everyone makes mistakes," Ninniach replied carefully.

"Still... I'll never be as skilled as I should be. But don't let me bother you with my troubles. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well..." The mood became somewhat awkward and uncomfortable, but fortunately Ninniach was spared her embarrassment, for two new figures had joined the small crowd of spectators. Galadriel and Celeborn were passing this way to reach the head of the Galadhrim soldiers. Celeborn silently told her with a beckon she was to come, too. Technically she was a princess, after all, even if she didn't usually act like one- or ever feel like one.

Obediently, Ninniach processed with her adopted parents to the head of the army. The following hours were admittedly drab and repetitive. There was very little action at such occasions, she realized. Just an endless barrage of marching and commanders re-pledging themselves. Although she tried hard to be interested, Ninniach simply couldn't enjoy the event, and was relieved when it was over (which made her angry with herself).

As she turned to go back to her room next to her family's at the center of the city, or at least talk to Anneth, she was stopped. A blade of steel barred her way.

~•~•~•~

Espalass bit his lip, a nervous habit. He silently and swiftly nocked an arrow, holding his bow in front of him. A rustling in the bushes was probably just a small animal, but one could never be too cautious, especially so close to Mordor.

As a shadow of madness had walked Espalass since his escape from Minas Morgul. His only wish, his only reason to live, was to find his home among the Dúnedain of the North. Perhaps some had escaped the Orc plunderers, perhaps his love was among them...

Snap! A twig broke under his feet. He silently swore, scaring the squirrel that was hiding in the bushes. He chided himself to be more careful, it would have gotten him dinner.

A glint of metal caught his eye. He looked and found a water-skin with a metal clasp trampled in the mud. It was ingrained with a white tree. Men of Gondor were in the area- well, of course, Espalass thought to himself. He was in South Gondor, if he had not lost his bearings and sense of geography. He sketched a loose map of Middle-earth, which was set into his brain from his studies in better times. He need a way to escape. If he wished to head north, he would have to cross the Mouths of Anduin or at least try to ford the Great River at its widest. He could also try edging around the river by slinking around the edge of Mordor. That way he would cross the Poros River, a much easier crossing, but he would have to pass by Minas Tirith. They would not take kindly to a man dressed in Orc-mail, likely a spy of Sauron. South would be an easier option, although those lands were unknown and filled with enemies. No, he told himself, south is not an option. But the true reason was that his home was in distant Northern lands. Although he knew it would be a collection of ruins and shadow, he still had to see, to make sure.

Espalass swept the dirt clear. North it was. He would cross the Mouths of Anduin and trek through mountains to Rohan, making his way slowly to his homeland. It would be a long road filled with dangerous terrain, but no living foes. Hopefully.

~•~•~•~

A blade of life-taking steel was there in front of Ninniach's face. Much too close to her neck. She could feel the cold of the metal radiating through the air around it.

"Man cerig?!" she screamed. The reply was a laugh and an apology. Her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. It was only Anneth. Holding... her sword. The dagger of her past. Tension built again, a pulsing pain. She should know what this was. Her mind was desperately searching for information that should have been there but simply wasn't.

"I realized that as guard, my duty was to protect you. It is only fitting that you learn to use a weapon. Come on, let's practice," announced Anneth proudly.

"Not... Not that. Teach me to use a bow instead, or anything really. Just not that sword," Ninniach replied.

"Okay...?" Anneth answered, confused. "As you wish, my lady," he finished teasingly.

And so Ninniach learned to fight with bow and quiver, gladly and joyfully whilst building Anneth's pride. She had remarkable natural skill with aiming, but lacked the strength needed to draw back the tense bowstring, prompting Anneth to help her. Their hands met. They shot the arrow away into the leaves as one, their weaknesses canceling out into one inseparable whole. The two were to always be the truest of friends. Ninniach didn't know, however, the agony this would bring.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N

Sorry this took so long! I have had very little time (and motivation) to write lately. I'll try to publish the next chapter soon!


End file.
